


Postcard fics

by Synekdokee



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AUs, Cherik - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, age disparity, lots of AUs, postcard fics, serial killer au, tags to be edited while updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/pseuds/Synekdokee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Cherik ficlets I wrote for people on post cards, which accounts for the rushed story-telling. It was fun trying to work out how to fit everything into such limited space. </p><p>Ratings and warnings will vary from story to story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time of Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> This one was for Max. Thinly veiled references to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
> 
> No triggers, but check the end of the story for warnings if you like to play it safe.

The grass in the garden was lush and thick, making it tricky for Charles to move in his wheelchair.

”I suppose it’s just one of those things,“ Charles said, for once not grumbling when Erik gave his chair a firm push forwards.  
  
“What things?”  
  
“That _happen_. Natural disasters. Ice caps melting.” Charles considered. “Indigestion.”

“Indigestion is not a force of nature,” Erik snapped.

“No,” acquiesced Charles, “but it is one of those things that happen. And when they do there’s nothing you can do about them but accept it.”

“That’s the stupidest simile I have heard in my entire life,“ said Erik. “And I’ve heard my fair share around you.”

Charles tutted. “You shouldn’t be so negative, my love. A bright outlook on life would’ve helped you a number of times.”

Erik rolled his eyes, knowing well Charles would not be able to see it.

“No, but I can sense it,” said the familiar teasing voice in Erik’s head.

“Case in point,” Charles added cheerfully and signalled at Erik to stop. “I don’t think I’ll be needing the chair anymore, do you?”

He braced himself on the armrests of his wheelchair.  
  
“Charles,” Erik started, rushing to grasp Charles’s biceps in worry. But Charles was already standing up, steady and strong. He turned around with a flourish, grinning brightly.

“See! A positive outlook does wonders for your life!”

“Unfortunate choice of words,” Erik said, squinting at Charles’s previously skinny and withered legs.

“And wipe that shit-eating grin off your face.”  
  
“Tsk.” Charles gave him a half-hearted slap on the back of Erik’s head, and then drabbed him and started walking him along.

Erik docilely allowed Charles to link their arms together and lead them down the tiled path. The garden they walked was green and vast and empty. Erik thought of having to walk the path alone, and shivered.

“Charles?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Charles gave him an odd look. Erik felt himself flushing.

"Not – _here_ , here but… here. With me. “

Charles smiled fondly. “So am I, old friend.”

At the end of the path they could see a stone archway, worn and mossy with age, full of carvings of creatures neither of them recognised.  
  
A tall figure in a dark robe stood under the arch as if waiting for their approach.

“Besides,” Charles said, giving Erik’s arm a squeeze. “It’s fitting, don’t you think?” We’ve been involved on most of the important events in each other’s lives. Why should this be any different?”

Erik hummed thoughtfully. “We had a good run.”

“Who says it’s over?” Charles winked, drawing a smile from Erik.

“I  still think it’s a little soon,” Erik grumbled as they reached the arch.

“YOU GOT WHAT ANYBODY GETS,” said the hooded figure.

“YOU GOT A LIFETIME.”

“Very sage,” said Erik dryly.

“THANK YOU. I BORROWED IT FROM A COLLEAGUE.”

“Shall we?” Charles gestured towards the stone arch, tucking himself into Erik’s side.

“AFTER YOU, GENTLEMEN,” said the stranger (though they both knew him well), and guided them through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're both dead, but that doesn't mean it has to be sad.


	2. Wheel Spin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Postcard ficlet for my sweet wife, Euphorbic. She requested I continue a ficlet she wrote for me here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/767874/chapters/1439686
> 
> Age disparity and not-quite-sex-in-a-car.

Erik choked on a moan as Charles ground down on his erection. The boy was panting, still giddy with excitement and rebellion. Erik wanted him, his body alive with arousal. It would be so easy, and who would blame him..?

Except _they_ could, and would. Charles’s family could make Erik’s life very difficult.

He grabbed Charles’s slim wrists, pulling them away from where they’d been burrowing into his shirt.

Charles pulled back sulkily from where he’d been sucking a mark on Erik’s neck ( _like a teenager_ , Erik had thought), and scowled.  
  
“You’re interrupting,” Charles said, tugging at Erik’s grip.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Erik said, trying to coax Charles up and into the driver’s seat. Charles resisted stubbornly.

“Isn’t this supposed to be part of the whole “real teen” experience? Making out in the car.” Charles grinned at him impishly.  
  
“Not with someone who hasn’t sat at a high school desk in a considerable amount of years.”

Charles rolled his eyes and leaned towards him while shimmying backwards in Erik’s lap. He brushed his lips against Erik’s ear.  
  
“Make me stop then,” he whispered, and started kissing his way down Erik’s neck.

Erik squeezed Charles’s wrists tight, pulling them behind his back and pressing at his spine, forcing Charles into an embrace and flush against Erik’s chest.  
  
Erik almost missed the soft whimper that had nothing to do with pain. The way Charles’s hips jerked would have been hard not to notice, however.

Erik switched his hold on Charles’s wrists into one hand, the slender bones an easy fit in Erik’s larger hand. He gripped Charles hair with his free hand, pulling his head back far enough to look the boy in the eye.

Charles gave a low whine, panting lightly. Erik watched Charles’s face, flushed red, mouth parted, blue eyes wide and glassy with lust. He smirked.  
  
“Ready for your next lesson?”


	3. In the Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Ikeracity, who wanted them both as cops.

”There’s a package for you, detective Xavier.”

Charles looked up from his case paperwork, pretending he didn’t see his partner perk up a few desks away.

“Maybe it’s his your cultured admirer,” Erik suggested dryly. He leaned back in his chair obnoxiously and crossed his arms behind his head. Charles shot him a glare and didn’t bother to comment.

He signed for the package quickly and cautiously started pulling it open. People gathered around him to see, victims of the rumour mill. Charles wanted to snap at them to give him some privacy, but the truth was that the last three packages he’d received had contained highly valuable and recently stolen art pieces.

Only Erik stayed at his desk, watching with an irritatingly unreadable look on his face as Charles handled the package.

Erik had been vocal about what a waste of time he thought it was they were running around hunting for over-priced trash for rich people, rather than catching real criminals who posed a threat to society. Charles secretly agreed, but he wasn’t going to let his partner know that, not when Erik made every discussion a contest, like a child pulling pigtails in a classroom. It didn’t excuse the increasingly inappropriate remarks Erik kept making about the “gifts” Charles received though.

Charles pulled on a pair of latex gloves and set to opening the box. It was void of clues on the outside, the now-familiar printed address label neatly tacked to the top. Inside the box was filled with white packaging peanuts, which Charles carefully scooped out onto a tray until something metallic peeked out.

He pulled it out gently, revealing a beautifully forged iron statue of two male figures wrapped in an embrace. There was a printed card tied to it.

“To Detective Xavier. An expression of my feelings.” Summers had snatched the card and was reading it out loud before Charles could stop him.

Everyone was silent, except Lehnsherr who had the most shit-eating grin on his (stupid, handsome, sexy) face.

“Well, partner. Sounds like this guy has it bad for you,” he said, voice sugar sweet. Charles resisted the urge to throw the (considering the art thief’s pattern) probably invaluable piece of art at his infuriating partner.

“We don’t have any reports of contemporary statues going missing, do we?” Alex asked, looking at the statue in puzzlement. “Are you sure it’s him?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “I find it highly unlikely that I have two art-thieving stalkers, both of who have exceedingly tacky and banal tastes in art.”

There was a loud clatter and Charles looked around to see Lehnsherr nearly tumbling out of his chair, his face burning red. Before Charles could ask him if he was alright, Logan strode in, looking serious and bored.

“Xavier, Lehnsherr!” he barked. “We got a call from Parks View. Someone’s personal art collection has been broken into and one item is reported as missing. A sculpture of-“ he stared at the statue, unlit cigar dangling from his slack mouth.

“That,” he finished, somewhat stunned.

Lehnsherr was already pulling on his coat and stomping towards the door.

“Let’s go Charles, we have to return your tacky and banal gift,” he snapped, leaving Charles to scramble after him confused.


	4. Red blooded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Maru, who wanted a serial killer AU. I hadn't seen the new show Hannibal yet when I wrote it, but it draws a lot from Thomas Harris's Hannibal Trilogy. Warnings for mentions of gore.

”Would you kill me if you had the chance?”

Erik set the gun on the table, only inches out of Charles’s reach.

“Or would you let me walk away free?”

Charles drew a shuddering breath, desperate not to show his fear. He turned his head to look at his partner’s unconscious body on the floor, unable to face Erik.

 

  
\--  
They hadn’t realised they were dealing with a serial killer until the fourth victim had shown up and someone drew the connection between seemingly different MOs. One victim had died from shock and blood loss after having several limbs removed neatly and surgically. One had been stabbed repeatedly in the back, another blinded and left to bleed out slowly. The fourth one had been bashed in the head with a baseball bat.  
Finally a medical examined with a twisted sense of humour had suggested all victims had been killed like some sadistic versions of children’s games.

It had struck them all as more than a little crazy, but coincidence or not, the cases had been reassigned to Charles and Logan. After an eternity of interviews and background research, they found another more concrete common denominator. All victims had well-hidden connections to the Nazi movement. Some were more prominent, others less active, but they were all involved in some ways.

When the fifth victim, this time a well-known anti-semitic public speaker, was found with burn marks all over his body, Charles and Logan sought out professor Erik Lehnsherr. He was a local esteemed expert in Holocaust studies, and seemed more than eager to help them with their profiling.

Logan deemed consulting Lehnsherr a waste of time, but Charles found his insight enlightening. And while Lehnsherr’s help gave them no concrete leads, Charles found himself spending more and more time with the professor, finding himself drawn to the man in a way he’d never been to anyone.

Charles had been chalking their companionship up to professional courtesy, until one evening in Erik’s study the man had laid his hand on Charles’s thigh boldly, and looked at him unflinchingly. When Charles had allowed Erik to kiss him for the first time, it felt like there had been an empty place inside him he hadn’t known about, and it was being filled.

Three more bodies turned up, and it took one badly timed phone call for it all to come crashing down.

 

  
\--  
“Hands off, Lehnsherr!” Charles laughed, pushing Erik poff as he reached for the phone ringing on his sofa table.

“Charles Xa-“  
  
“Charles, I figured out our missing link,” Logan interrupted, sounding uncharacteristically rushed. “I know how the victims knew each other.”  
  
Charles threw Erik a confused look, knowing he could hear Logan’s voice leaking through the plastic receiver.

“…all have personal or professional contacts to doctor Klaus Schmidt-”  
  
Charles watched, frozen, as Erik rose from the sofa calmly, reaching for the gun Charles had put away on the side table behind Erik, far from his own reach. Logan was shouting now, voice distant.  
  
“-are you listening Charles? I did some digging, you know who spent time the good doctor’s care during the war? Fucking-“  
  
“Erik Lehnsherr.”  
  
Charles felt weak as Erik plucked the phone from his hand and put it to his own ear, gun trained on Charles.

“I’m afraid Detective Xavier is busy at the moment,” Erik said, voice pleasant and silky. Charles could hear Logan shouting at the other end of the line before Erik ripped the cord from the wall in one smooth motion.

“Don’t do this,” Charles whispered. Erik smiled.

“Why don’t we wait for you knight to arrive?”

 

  
\--

“I loved you,” Charles said thickly, chest hollowed and aching. Erik nodded slowly, reaching out to brush Charles’s cheek gently.

“If I had it in me,” Erik said, voice soft, “you would be the one I would love.”

Logan stirred on the floor. Charles knew his time was running out. He closes his eyes, swallowing against a sob, fists clenched in anger behind his back, nails digging into his palms.  
  
He jerked when strong, deft hands touched his hands, slowly untying his right hand. He opened his eyes to look at over his shoulder. The man worked silently, not looking at Charles. He rose to his feet when Charles pulled his right hand free, flexing it to get the blood flowing.

Charles watched Erik take the gun, and couldn’t stop the shiver of fear quaking his body. Rather than point the gun at him though, Erik put it down in front of Charles, now well within his reach.  
Logan groaned, slowly pulling himself to his feet, groggily reaching for his absent side-arm.

“It’s you choice now.” Erik brushed a lock of hair from Charles’s forehead, the gesture tender and familiar.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quiet, finally meeting Charles’s eyes. “You made me wish I could love.”  
  
Charles picked up the gun, blinking away tears. His trembling finger curled around the trigger as Logan lunged at Erik.


End file.
